A Hunter Walks Into a Bar
by rizlow
Summary: Prowling hunter, sassy bartender...one-shot


Dean walked into the dimly lit tavern, glancing around him as he headed straight for a bar stool. Not many people in here, and the ones that were...well, it looked as though they were pretty much down for the count.

He watched out the corner of his eye as an obvious prostitute approached a bedraggled businessman sitting in a booth against the wall. Nice neighborhood. He dragged his gaze forward as he sat down, finding himself eye to eye with the bartender. Her blue eyes were startling, even in the darkness, her auburn hair pulled back into a braid. She pursed her full lips impatiently, her arms folded in front of her, and the tank top she was wearing was definitely clinging to the right places.

"Well, hello," he said in his best sexy drawl, and she stared back, unimpressed.

"You want a drink? I've got work to do," she said, her voice very businesslike.

He cocked an eyebrow, effectively cooled down for the moment. "Yeah. Whiskey. Double."

She nodded at him, grabbing a glass and pouring his drink, then taking his money without another word. She turned to walk to the end of the bar, and he leaned in just slightly to watch how her faded jeans fit over her very nicely formed rear end. He smirked a little to himself, deciding that the challenge would probably be worth it, then turned as he heard her raise her voice a little.

"Camille! What did I tell you about soliciting in here? You wanna get me fired, get Joe closed down? If you don't want a drink, then take your business outside." The hooker near the booth looked daggers at her, but sauntered slowly towards the door, and the bartender turned back to the bar, shaking her head. "I don't know how many times I've gotta tell her," she muttered under her breath, picking up a couple of empties from that end of the bar and heading back towards Dean.

"What's your name?" he asked as she walked past, tossing the empty cans into the huge trash can and continuing to the other end of the bar.

"Why?" she asked, cleaning up another vacated spot and grabbing a bar rag to wipe down the worn surface.

"Hard to have a conversation without knowing who you're talking to."

"Oh, are we going to have a conversation?" She continued working, and Dean watched her move, her braid swinging against her back, and wondered how that hair would look, loose and framing her face. Or spread out across his pillow, for that matter.

"Just trying to be friendly," he said, turning to watch as she walked out from behind the bar, clearing a couple of tables, taking an order for more beer from another. Three men walked in about then, and she turned back towards the bar, rolling her eyes. Dean glanced back at the group, obviously already tanked, taking a seat at a far table.

"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly a friendly neighborhood," she said, and she actually met his eyes for a second before turning away again. He saw her take a deep breath and slightly square her shoulders before walking over to where the new customers were sitting, laughing loudly and leering at her as she drew near. "Yeah, Chad, what are you guys drinking?"

"Well, Tiara, we just came in to see you, darlin'." The bearded blond was drunk already, and she sidestepped his attempt to put an arm around her waist. "Aw, c'mon, Tiara. Don't be unfriendly, now. You get better tips if you're friendly, y'know."

"Guess I'm not getting a tip then, Chad. Now what do you want to drink? Order, or go home, I'm busy."

Dean heard mumbles from the other two drunks with him, not complimentary, but she stood impatiently waiting for their order, her face impassive. Finally they ordered beers, and she turned to walk away, not quite quickly enough to evade the grab he made at her rear, but she ignored it and kept on going as they laughed loudly, as if what he'd done was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Dean's jaw clenched as he fought the impulse to go and beat some sense into the idiots, but Tiara took their beer over and came back without a further incident, so he relaxed a little, calling her by name and smiling as he ordered another double.

"So, mind if I ask a question?" he said quietly as she worked behind the bar, washing glasses.

"Free country."

"What are you doing working in a place like this?"

"Needed a job, Joe gave me a job. Pretty hard to figure out." Dean smiled slightly; the sarcasm was clear, but her voice was like warm honey, and he just wanted her to keep talking.

"You seem a little..."

"Unfriendly? Yeah, we covered that."

"On guard. I was going to say on guard."

Her blue eyes raised to look at him, and he almost felt the impact physically. "If you don't stay on guard in here, they could find your body in the dumpster out back."

He nodded as she went back to her task, and the scraggly bearded blond staggered up to the bar about then, leaning his elbows on the scarred wood. "Hey, Tiara. We need some more beer."

She went to the little cooler behind her, grabbed three Budweisers and turned to set them on the counter. "Nine dollars." He fished in his pocket, bringing out a crumpled ten dollar bill, and laid it on the bar. Tiara reached for it, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward.

"How 'bout a kiss, darlin'?" he said, his words slurred, and every muscle in Dean's body went on alert, but as he started to move from the bar stool, Tiara slammed a heavy wooden club onto the bar top with such force that it echoed in the room.

"Chad. You've got three seconds to let go of me before I break your arm. One... Two... "

He shoved her arm away, an ugly sneer on his face. "Bitch. Don't know why I come in here. You can shove that beer..." He never finished his sentence, because he was lying on his back on the floor, blood gushing from his nose.

Dean sat back down, picking up his drink. "I think it's time for you and the rest of the stooges to leave. Now," he said, his voice menacing enough that the bleeding drunk gathered himself off the floor and staggered straight for the door, his surprised friends following slowly behind him.

Tiara grabbed a spray bottle and rag from under the bar and walked around the bar to kneel near the blood splatter on the floor. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Who's helping? He almost spilled my drink, it pissed me off."

She looked up at him from her vantage point on the floor, really looked at him for the first time. He was staring down at her, an appreciative gleam in his moss-green eyes, his full lips slightly curved in a smile, and she felt a little flustered for the first time in...forever.

"Getting an eyeful?" she asked as she stood, jerking her top a little higher up her chest, and that smile of his became a very sexy smirk. Tiara deliberately pulled her eyes from him and turned her back, putting the cleaning materials away and grabbing a bar rag to go clean off a couple of tables.

When she turned back, he was gone, to the men's room she decided, because his drink still sat there. The first one had disappeared quickly, but he had slowed his roll, because he had barely touched this one. She allowed herself to think about him for a few seconds, the heavy-lidded way he was looking at her, his tousled hair, the long lashes over beautiful green eyes, the dark stubble on his face that begged to be touched, and those lips... She could imagine how those lips would taste, how they would feel on her body...

"You okay?" And his voice! She mentally shook herself, looking up as he sat down once again at the bar.

"I'm good." And I bet you are, too. "So, you know my name, what's yours?"

"Dean." He raised his glass in a mini-salute. "Nice to meet you, Tiara." His emphasis was on the word 'you.'

A small group of people came in, and she was busy for a while. Dean watched her as she worked, enjoying the view more every minute. There was something about her, the way she moved, like a lioness, smooth and graceful; but beneath the surface he sensed power and passion. He could see that in her eyes, in the few times she had actually met his gaze. The longer he watched her, the more sure he was that he'd have to stick around this area for a few days.

Tiara continued working, trying to keep her eyes from roaming over Dean's face and body, half angry that he dared come into her place and awaken feelings that she was trying like hell to suppress. One reason she had chosen to come here, away from any possibility of running into a man she might even slightly be interested in. Too much pain involved there, she didn't want any part of it, at least not for a long, long time. She watched him covertly as he took a sip of his drink, his tongue running over his bottom lip, and she felt heat in the pit of her belly. Angry at herself, she grabbed a case of liquor from the floor and headed into the stock room, needing to get away from the temptation sitting at the bar.

When she came back out, her table full of customers had left, and she grabbed the bar rag and began cleaning up. She kept her back to Dean, deliberately refusing to look at him again, determined to get that wall of ice back up before he could see the effect he was having on her. A commotion at the door caught her attention, and she straightened, catching her breath. Chad and his two worthless buddies stood in the doorway. His face was swollen and bloody, and he pulled a pistol from the front of his jeans, waving it around wildly.

"Everybody out. Now." He looked at Dean, an ugly sneer on his ugly face. "Not you. You stay. You too, Tiara. You stay right where you are."

The few regulars still in the place headed for the door. Old Stan, the one customer she was actually a little fond of, looked over his shoulder at her as he left, worry on his face, and she tried to smile, but barely succeeded. He'd call the cops, they'd be here soon, but Chad was drunk and stupid, and he could do a lot of damage by the time they got here.

"Chad, what are you doing?" she said, keeping her voice level. "You're gonna end up in a lot of trouble, think about it."

"I've thought about it plenty. You just blow me off every time I come in here, and I'm tired of it. You don't know a good thing when it's staring you in the face." He swung the gun Dean's direction, glaring through his swollen eyes at him. "And he broke my nose."

Dean stood up, his hands out where the idiot could see them. "Hey, man, sorry about that. I just have a tendency to punch asshats."

The drunk's hand was shaking a little, but the gun was still leveled at Dean. "I could kill you where you stand, you..."

"No, you couldn't. Look at your hand shaking. And really, if you want to aim well, you should have both hands up, but I can see you're an expert, so far be it from me to give you advice." Dean was making his way slowly forward as he talked, and Tiara's heart was pounding in her chest. Didn't he know that moron could kill him? "And your stance...you should be standing with your feet planted, and... Dude, you're barely standing. Way too drunk to be trying to shoot somebody, maybe you should try it sober. I'd say you should go home, sleep it off, and try again tomorrow, maybe?"

Every nerve in Tiara's body was screaming, her breath coming hard and fast as Dean drew slowly closer to the drunken fool. "Stop right where you are, I mean it," Chad said, his voice wavering a little as he brought the gun up a little higher. "I've got the gun, I'm in charge here!"

"Oh, I know," Dean said, lunging at the sorry excuse for a man, and then the gun was in Dean's hands and Chad was on the floor. In a matter of three seconds the pistol's magazine was in Dean's pocket, and the gun was in pieces, tossed into the surprised man's lap.  
"You've still got the gun, dickbag. Are you still in charge?"

"How the hell did you do that?" Tiara said, almost whispering.

"Practice, sweetheart." He turned his head to look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, watching Chad as he shook his head, still unsure of what had happened. Flashing lights began to throw eerie patterns and shadows into the room as a local police car pulled up and two officers rushed towards the bar, guns drawn.

-

It had taken a little over an hour to give incident reports to the cops and get them all cleared out, Chad leaving in cuffs, and the pieces of his gun and its bullets in the possession of the officers. As soon as the black and whites left the neighborhood, regulars began drifting back in, Old Stan the first one through the door. Tiara went to the old man and hugged him, thanking him for calling the police. She gave him a couple of beers on the house.

When it neared one a.m., closing time, Tiara began carrying the liquor into the storage room, which had a secure locking steel door. It  
saved broken windows and such, since everyone in the area knew that Joe locked his supplies away every night. Her nerves were still on edge after what had happened earlier, and Dean's eyes on her for the last couple of hours hadn't helped. "Nervous as a whore in church," she mumbled to herself, and as she turned to leave the room, she reacted immediately to a form in front of her, swinging with purpose as she had been taught in her self-defense class.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean's voice sounded surprised as he trapped her arm with his, holding her other wrist in his free hand. "Just me, princess. I thought you might need some help."

"Don't call me princess. And don't sneak up on me like that." She jerked away from him and stood staring at him, her heart hammering so loud she was afraid he could hear it. "If I need help, I'll ask for it." She knew she should leave the room, but he was standing in her way, close enough that she could smell his cologne, his leather jacket, the whiskey on his breath. "You should leave, I have to lock up," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The tip of his tongue, then his teeth played across his bottom lip before a slow smile slid onto his face. He reached a hand towards her, and she flinched back, but she was against a stack of boxes and had nowhere to go. His fingers brushed across her cheek, and then he bent to kiss her, his lips as soft as she had imagined, skillfully caressing hers until she weakened with a sigh and her lips parted, his tongue slipping past as he moaned softly at the taste of her. He wasn't touching her anywhere else, but she would have sworn, the way she was feeling, that his hands were roaming everywhere.

He raised his head, running his thumb lightly over her lips. "So I guess you'd better lock up."

She looked up at him, flicking her tongue out to touch his thumb, happy with the sharp intake of breath it caused in him. "So I guess you'd better move." He stepped back, watching as she swung by him, rolling his eyes and blowing out a breath before following her out into the bar. She closed the steel mesh over the windows and the door, engaged the locks and the steel bar for good measure. Dean watched as she double-checked the back entrance, then went back around the bar to secure the storage room. When she came back around, he reached for her, but she shook her head. "No. Not here. I live upstairs."

He followed her back to the hallway which lead to the bathrooms. On the opposite wall was a door, and she pulled her keys from her pocket, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the way to a set of stairs. She went up a couple of steps, turning to make sure Dean locked the door again, and then headed up, fully aware of Dean's eyes watching her appreciatively. They reached the door to the upstairs apartment, and she pulled her keys out again, unlocking a second deadbolt. Then she opened the door, standing against it to allow Dean into the room.

He nodded approvingly as he looked around. "Nice place. Not what I'd expect above the dive downstairs."

"Yeah, it's very nice, and comes with the job." Tiara was emptying her pockets of keys, change and tips, placing it all on a tray which rested on a small table near the door. "Joe, the guy who owns this place, was an army buddy of my dad's. That's partly how I ended up here. And you don't want to know the rest, so we'll leave it at that."

"How do you know I don't want to hear it?" Dean took off the leather jacket, laying it over the back of an overstuffed chair.

"Same story a million other people have. Bad breakup, needed to get away." Tiara shoved her hands into her pockets, suddenly a little uncomfortable and shy. "You want a drink?"

"Sure." Dean sat on the couch, accepting the cold beer Tiara brought back with a smile. "Thanks. So, is he the reason you're so afraid?"

"I'm not afraid." Tiara took a long pull from her bottle, then set it on the coffee table as she sat down next to Dean.

His expression showed his disbelief. "Right. Most bartenders flirt like crazy with their customers, keeps them happy and gets them bigger tips. You...barely speak to them. I couldn't get you to say two words to me for most of the night."

"Maybe I wasn't interested for most of the night."

Dean let out a little laugh, nodding. "Fair enough." He took a drink, then set his bottle down. "Turn around."

Tiara frowned at him, a little wary of his request. "Why?"

"Humor me, okay?" he said, and she gave in at the look on his face. She turned her back to him, and soon felt his hands on her hair. He took out the band holding her braid together, then began to unbraid her hair, and Tiara found it hard to breathe as he ran his fingers through the strands. "There. I've been dying to do that all night."

She hesitated for a moment, then turned to face him, her lip caught between her teeth. "There's something I've been wanting to do all night, too." She slowly raised her hand to his face, brushing her fingers across the stubble on his cheeks and chin, then smiled up at him shyly. "It's soft. I didn't realize it would be so soft..." Her voice faded away at the glow in his eyes, and he bent slowly to kiss her, soft and gentle, her hand still on his face. Then he put his arms around her, pulling her close, sliding his fingers into the soft mass of her hair, and the heat grew between them, their tongues exploring, their pulses racing.

Dean laid her back on the couch, still kissing her, moving his way along her jaw and to her neck, nibbling at the curve of her shoulder, and then her collar bone, nipping gently at her with his teeth, his tongue teasing at her skin. He raised his head, looking down at her, stark admiration in his eyes as she fought to breathe normally. "Just how I pictured it," he said in a whisper, and her brows furrowed faintly in question. "Your hair. All spread out underneath you. Exactly how I pictured it, Tiara." She closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her again, and then all bets were off.

She slipped her hands beneath his t-shirt, sliding them around his waist and letting them roam over the hard muscles in his back, pulling him down on top of her as she kissed him back with all the pent-up feelings she'd been keeping in check. He frantically pulled off his long-sleeved shirt, then sat up to rip his t-shirt off over his head. He reached for her hand, helping her up to a sitting position, staring into her eyes as he pulled gently at her tank top, freeing it from her jeans. His hands brushed against her skin and she shivered as he took her shirt off, then looked down at her, swallowing hard, his fingers lightly trailing over the rounded tops of her breasts.

"Bedroom?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse, as he stood, her hand in his as he gave her a lift from her seat.

She led him down the hall, into her bedroom, her eyes never leaving his, reaching with her free hand to fling the bedspread and covers down as Dean backed her slowly up against the mattress. She sat down, scooting back as he put a knee down between her legs and let his eyes roam over her body, then back to her face. She moved onto the bed until she could lie back, and he lowered himself over her, his lips on hers, feverishly kissing her as his hands began to roam over her, cupping her breast in one hand, sliding the other along her side and underneath her back. He pulled her with him as he rolled to his side, his fingers quickly undoing her bra. Then he moved her to her back and pulled the garment from her, dropping it behind him, staring down at her for an intense moment before he bent to touch his tongue to her nipple, flicking it softly against the sensitive nub as Tiara moaned softly. He moved his attention to the other, and Tiara ran her hands up his arms, the corded muscles there sending her fever higher still.

His hand slid down to her jeans, undoing the button and lowering the zipper. He slipped his fingers under the denim, gliding along her skin to her hip, and Tiara cried out softly as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, teasing and sucking at it until she could focus on nothing else. When he moved his lips from her breast, slowly kissing and nipping at her as he moved down her body, she squirmed beneath him, unable to lie still. "You're delicious," he whispered, running his tongue across her skin, "and I haven't even gotten to the good part yet." Tiara inhaled sharply as he nipped at her hip bone, both hands now busy, working on pulling her jeans and panties down. He got off the bed for a moment, removing the rest of her clothing in one swift motion, then running his hands softly up her legs before bending to kiss her ankles, her calves, behind her knees, and then her inner thighs, working his way slowly up to his goal.  
Tiara was breathless, knowing what was coming, but she couldn't stifle her moan as his tongue and lips touched her, and she buried her hands in his hair. His hands gripped her hips as he took his time, driving her slowly insane as he teased her and tasted her, until one hard swirl of his tongue sent her over the edge, and he drank her in as she writhed beneath him, crying out his name.

Once again he took his time, kissing his way slowly back up her body, his own need almost painful now. He finally made his way back to her lips, kissing her hungrily as his hands skimmed over her body, her skin still hypersensitive to his touch. He stopped for a moment, laying down beside her to unfasten his jeans, slipping them and his boxers off and kicking them off of the bed. Tiara turned to him, her hands gliding over his firm chest and down his belly, sweeping over the tip of his erection, then stroking down its length as he hissed in a breath between his teeth. "Tiara," he said, and she kissed him, hard, her hand grasping him and causing him to buck up into her grip, but as he reached for her, she pulled back slightly, shaking her head.

"My turn," she whispered next to his lips, her tongue darting out to run across them before she kissed her way down to his chest, giving his nipples the same attention he had given hers, his hand gripping her hair. Dean reared his head back into the pillow as she made her way slowly down his firmly muscled abdomen, her fingers still lightly stroking at him, as he clutched at the sheets. When she ran her tongue over the tip, he almost sat up in the bed, his breathing harsh, and as he lowered himself again, she took him into her mouth, just a little, her tongue twirling around as she sucked gently, and he swore softly under his breath. She worked her way down his length, taking in a little more each time, until she had reached her limit, sucking hard as she pulled back, then swirling her tongue over him again until he thought he would explode.

"Tiara, stop. Come here...please..." His voice was harsh with need, and as she raised her head he grabbed her arm, pulling her on top of him, devouring her lips as he raised his hips to grind against her. She kissed him, ravenous for any touch, any taste of him, and then she sat up, raising to her knees, guiding him to her opening as Dean let out a long, low moan. She lowered herself slowly, shuddering slightly as her body accepted him, embraced him, became one with him.

They stayed perfectly still for a moment, and then Tiara moved her hips, and Dean bucked up beneath her, hard enough to make her gasp. She moved slowly, feeling everything as if it were magnified, every nerve in her body alive and vibrant. Dean held himself back until he could take no more, pulling her close and rolling them over. He kissed her as he began to move faster, and faster, driving himself into her hard, harder, until she almost shouted with her release as he growled, reaching his own explosion, pounding into her until he finally was spent. She shuddered again as an aftershock hit her, and he bucked against her one more time. "Damn, woman," he whispered against her shoulder, turning to his side as he pulled her along, cradling her against him as their breathing and pulses slowly returned to normal.

Tiara was almost asleep against Dean's chest when he pulled out, causing her to whimper softly as she clung to him. Dean reached for the covers, pulling them up over them both, and let himself drift off to sleep, holding her firmly in his arms.

-

It was late morning before they woke, and Dean smiled as he gently brushed hair from Tiara's face and bent to kiss her softly. "Hey, sweetness."

"Hey yourself," she answered, a sleepy smile on her face as her eyes fought against opening. When she finally did, she looked right into Dean's well-satisfied green eyes, his lips curved in that sexy smirk of his. "Morning."

"Morning." He kissed her again, then pulled her close, his chin resting on top of her head, his fingers softly stroking her arm. "So, I have some business to take care of, but I could come back tonight, if you don't mind."

"Pretty sure I don't mind," she said, smiling as she snuggled against his chest.

He hesitated, then spoke quietly again. "I have to leave tomorrow, Tiara."

She leaned back against his arm, turning her face up to look at him. "Well, I guess I knew you weren't moving in."

He kissed her again, lingering over her lips. "I want to come back. I want to see you again, be with you again. I can't tell you when, my job isn't that cut and dried. But if you're okay with when you see me, you see me..."

"So, tomorrow night we have a date. And then sometime, in the unknown future..."

Dean pressed his lips tightly together, turning his face slightly away. "I know. I don't blame you, Tiara."

"Hey." Her fingers were softly caressing his face, then coaxing him to look at her again. "I didn't say no. Whenever you want to stop...if I'm still here...you're welcome. Someday you can tell me why, but for now, I don't care."

She stood outside the bar later on, watching the black Impala disappear down the street. One more night, and then whenever he could. She smiled to herself, thinking that didn't sound like such a bad thing. Anticipation was half the fun.


End file.
